


35th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [35]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Overwatch (Video Game), X-Men - All Media Types, Xenoblade Chronicles, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Cock & Ball Torture, Cuckolding, Docking, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Spanking, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Dunban/Riki | ch.2 McCree/Hanzo | ch.3 McCree/Shimadacest | ch.4 Endeavor/Hawks | ch.5 Endeavor/Hawks | ch.6 Akande/Lúcio/Gabriel | ch7. McCree/Hanzo | ch.8 Bruce/Jason | ch.9 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.10 McCree/Hanzo | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.12 Magneto/Beast
Relationships: Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Dunban (Xenoblade Chronicles)/Riki (Xenoblade Chronicles), Erik Lehnsherr/Hank McCoy, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Enji | Endeavor
Series: Fic Batches [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 9
Kudos: 133





	1. Dunban/Riki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dunban/Riki – Xenoblade Chronicles 1 – dubcon/noncon – Nopon have a special way to deal with just about... anything, and Riki thinks he should help Dunban through his malais.

“Oh hey there, Riki! I didn’t know you were visiting us again!”

Dunban stares at the ceiling as he listens to Fiora’s happy voice downstairs. He winces even before he hears Riki’s shrill voice booming: “But of course! Riki as heropon has to make frequent visits all across Bionis! Heropon has to have eyes everywhere! Can’t be caught off guard!”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Fiora chuckles. “Especially Colony 9, right? We’re very grateful for your service, big heropon.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Fiora asks: “You’re here to see Dunban, aren’t you? Would you bring his meal up to him? I’ll go and see where Shulk is. I got a lunch with his name on it…”

“It’s least heropon can do for great herohom! Leave important task to Riki!”

Dunban quickly closes his eyes when he hears the rattling of cutlery ascend the stairs. He is rarely in the mood for Riki’s chipperness these days, and rather would pretend to be asleep to get out of having to talk to the ‘heropon’.

Riki, surprisingly tactful, stops speaking the second he notices that Dunban’s eyes are closed, his good arm laying over his naked belly. For ease of… everything, Dunban is only wearing shorts.

Getting undressed to clean himself only to get dressed again afterwards seems like just too big of a hurdle at the moment. Fiora leaves him be, thankfully. He doesn’t know for how long that will last, but he will treasure it for now.

There’s the soft click of the tray being put on the bedside table, and then nothing. Nopon are… stupidly well equipped to sneak around. Their tiny feet make barely a _pap_ on the floor.

All the more startled is he when he feels his shorts suddenly being pulled down his legs. His eyes fly open and his hand flails to grip at the offender’s wrist. All he gets to grab is a nopon wing that he immediately lets go off again, startled.

He lifts his head and stares at Riki who has bounced up on the bed and is in the process of nudging his plump round body between Dunban’s legs.

“Riki?!”

“Heropon Riki, at your service!” Riki crows immediately. His stubby little arms are down between them, doing something Dunban can’t quite see. He flushes dully when he realizes his naked dick and balls are what are in the way of seeing what the heck Riki is up to. He flails, trying to push the Nopon away from between his legs so he can pull his shorts back up, but…

Riki’s wing is grabbing his arm and pinning it down next to him with an uncanny strength that has Dunban grow cold all over.

“Please not to make fuss while Riki is working!” Riki tells him seriously.

“What… What are you doing?” Dunban asks, voice cracking precariously. He somehow manages to sit up, his uselessly unresponsive arm a dead weight hanging from his shoulder while he has to realize that despite his small size, Riki is disturbingly strong.

“Heropon Riki has decided to take matters into own wings. Sometime, when feeling down, what one truly needs is… relaxation! Riki not fault Fiora for not thinking of it. She still young hom-hom, and related to herohom Dunban.”

As Dunban watches, he finally sees the pink tip of something emerging from below. His mouth goes slack. He leans farther in, staring down between there bodies. There, thrusting up from Riki’s feathery underbelly is a… Nopon cock. Dunban has never seen one. He’s never felt the _need_ to see one.

But now here it was, long and tapered and disturbingly wet, coming out of the little sheath the Nopon had.

As Dunban stared, Riki shuffled closer, his round body pressing Dunban’s thighs effortlessly apart until the hero of the homs had his legs spread like a maiden, his balls pressing against the warm, feathery body of a Nopon.

“Wha- Riki! No!”

Dunban jerked, trying to rip his arm out of the tight grasp of Riki’s wing, but the Nopon was an unmovable force, his little arms calmly grasping his cock and guiding it to Dunban’s rear entrance.

“Please not to worry,” Riki chirped. “Riki is _expert-pon_. Most expert than any of Nopon you will ever meet!”

Dunban feels the slippery tip brushing against his tightly clenched hole, and would never be not ashamed of his immediate half-cry of _Fiora_!

His voice breaks pre-pubescently, abs straining as he tries to get out of Riki’s grip, but all that he manages is to actively push himself onto the slippery Nopon cock.

He had to be dreaming. This had to be a _nightmare_. His knees try to squeeze the life out of the Nopon, but as round and fluffy as Riki looked, he seemed to be made out of metal. There wasn’t even a flinch to his ever grinning little face as he started fucking like his life depended on it, pushing his slippery, long dick into Dunban’s helpless rear; spearing him until he felt like he should be able to see the red tip poke out from his belly button.

Dunban roars and throws his head back, but their house is too far to alert anybody of his… distress.

Sweat his beading on his forehead, and to his utter humiliation, his cock is starting to swell from the treatment.

Riki is _ecstatic_.

“Riki told you! Is best from best! Herohom Dunban is _honored_ to be receiving ancient Nopon secret, yes? Yes, Riki can tell!”

“I have no… idea… what you’re babbling about!” Dunban gasps. Riki’s feathery belly is dragging against his cock and balls, and the sensation is sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his body.

The wild hair on top of Riki’s head is bouncing in time with his thrust like a palm in the wind. Dunban can’t stop staring at it as his knees stop fighting and just fall open, giving Riki free reign as he fucks him with ill-guided enthusiasm.

“Nopon living long life! Ever wonder why? Because Nopon found secret to good and healthy living! Be sad? Just mate! Be happy? Just mate! Be feeling under weather? Mate, mate, mate!”

Dunban doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He’s never heard of anything so ridiculous. The thought of Nopon all over the Bionis fucking like bunnits is driving him to the brink of madness.

His hair is plastered to the back of his neck, cock lying against his belly and distracting him with zings of pleasure. He does not want to come from this… this… violation, but he has to admit that Riki is… unnervingly good.

His thin, slippery cock seems to be made solely for the purpose of feeling good. Dunban doesn’t think it would have ached even if he had clenched down on it every second of the way.

He just hopes Riki will be done with it before Fiora comes back home… Oh maker… she couldn’t see them like this!

Dunban, suddenly invigorated by the thought, starts to actively work with Riki, whose face lights up in a huge grin.

“There! There! Heropon saving the day again!”


	2. McCree/Hanzo + Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McHanzo + Reaper – cuckolding; mind alteration – Gabriel has started something years ago and he will bring it to an end now.

“Shit, sugartits… you ridin’ like the devil,” Jesse croons, eyes on Hanzo’s pecs. They’re plump enough to be jiggling with every motion, and the sight gets him going almost more than the feeling of the silky hole dragging with a brutal grip along his cock.

Hanzo scoffs, though the sound is softened by the fact that he is out of breath. He stares down at Jesse in a way that cuts him to the bone even without the man saying anything. Jesse tries it with a roguish grin.

Hanzo rolls his eyes and leans forward, bracing himself on Jesse’s hirsute chest with one hand, fingers digging into the hair until tears prick at the corners of Jesse’s eyes.

Damn, Hanzo knows _exactly_ how painful that shit is.

Shimada’s lips curl into a derisive grin. He dulls the sharp edge of pain by slowly moving up again, dragging along Jesse’s cock torturously slow. When he sits down, his head suddenly falls forward, chin hitting his collar bones.

Was Jesse’s cock that good?

“I am glad to see you having fun.” Jesse hisses sharply, hands flying and clamping around Hanzo’s hips, but… Hanzo keeps slowly moving, like he hasn’t realized they were having an audience.

“What the-”

“He’s asleep. Leave him be. Or do you want him to witness what I am going to do to you?”

Reaper has stepped closer, and now Jesse can see him standing there dark and foreboding over Hanzo’s shoulders. His heart is pumping against his ribs, but his cock is painfully hard inside Hanzo’s tight grip like it is a Pavlovian reflex to hearing Gabriel’s voice, no matter how distorted it has become.

Gabriel… no… Reaper… laughs at him. Smoke is unfurling from his body. Jesse can’t get a real look at him; it is like he is simply a… void of light. They stretch out towards him. Jesse hisses when he feels them touching his ankles and creeping up his legs.

“I’ve been watching for a while now,” Reaper purrs.

“How’d you get in here?!” Jesse bites out. He tries to push Hanzo away, but whatever Reaper has done to him, he is heavy as bricks and is not moving an inch; other than lightly rotating his hips and getting Jesse to grind deep into him.

“Why would I tell you my tricks?” Reaper answers amused. His tendrils have now reached his knees, tickling the back of them. “I noticed… you never let him fuck you. Are you ashamed?”

Jesse’s belly cramps, but his stupid dick is still… more than on board with it. The thought of Reaper having creeped on them getting it on is… ah… 

hot.

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” he growls, kicking for the silky soft touch of the tendrils. He is unsure if he hits them; or even _can_ hit them. If so, Reaper doesn’t make a sound of pain, and they are back within a heartbeat – if they had even been gone at all.

They are slowly sliding up the insides of his thighs, and he finds himself opening up. Hanzo tilts forward, his hands coming up to brace himself on Jesse’s shoulders, still sitting snug and tight in his lap. He’s not getting anywhere soon, that much is obvious.

“I’m saying maybe you got self-conscious… knowing what a bad fuck you are,” Reaper purrs. His large silhouette has moved closer, and Jesse could swear he can feel the bed dip with his weight, but anything about the wreath is just… surreal. Like he is a walking nightmare.

“You tried so hard all the time… bouncing on my cock… but we know you’re just a lazy little bastard, aren’t you? You’re best just lying there and letting someone more competent use your big, ruddy dick.”

Jesse flushes, shame prickling under his skin.

“Shut your…” he starts, but loses steam halfway through. Reaper’s claws are curling around his ankles, pushing his legs even farther apart, and Jesse just… he just lets him. He wonders if Reaper is exerting the same kind of power over him that he is holding over Hanzo, or if he is just horribly fascinated about where this whole thing is going.

The bone white mask is staring at him over Hanzo’s shoulder as the wraith comes closer and closer until he is plastered against Shimada’s back. He reaches beneath Hanzo’s arms, clawed hands cupping the generous tits that Jesse had been admiring earlier.

“You need some eye candy to get it up these days?” Reaper croons. “You always need help with it, don’t you? Needed me to grab your hips and make you ride me properly… and now you need a nice pair of tits to get you going. It’s _pathetic_.”

Jesse is flushing up from his chest. He can feel the heat crawling up his neck and settling deep in his cheeks.

“You’re full of shit,” he replies, but he knows it sounds weak. It sounds like he is admitting to his weakness.

Reaper laughs softly, slowly squeezing Hanzo’s tits while his tentacles begin to tickle Jesse’s hairy hole; one little tip wiggling its way into him.

Jesse clenches down, trying to force the insidious little thing back out, but it is unrelenting, pushing in slowly and making room for a second one, the two starting to stretch him like a cruel little pair of fingers.

Reaper is still laughing, sharp claws dragging over Hanzo’s perky little nipples. It is a miracle that there is no blood to be seen.

“It’s alright, McCree. I know it is hard to admit you’re bad at everything you touch… but lucky for you… I am willing to pick back up what I started all those years ago. Do you remember? Your training? Oh well, it is of no consequence. We will simply start from the beginning… and you have a little friend to show you how it’s done. Animals always learn better if they get shown the tricks by others.”

Jesse arches his head back, his fingers digging bruisingly into Hanzo’s hips when he feels the tentacles opening him up wide for the blunt intrusion of Gabriel’s cock.

It’s been decades since he last felt a dick up his ass. The last time had been Gabriel as well.

Jesse remembers the lessons. He’s really tried to be a good boy too, but… it was just so difficult to focus when you felt like you were being filled to the absolute brim. Like your insides had to fall out your fucking ass when you lifted back up on your knees.

It’s just been so _hard_!

He whines pathetically when Reaper starts to push inside. He can’t help it. He remembers the exact shape of Gabriel’s cock; the upward curve that it has; the way his nose nudges against his insides in a way that is entirely unfair. 

Reaper is laughing softly; low and infuriating.

“I will teach you. Old dogs can learn tricks, isn’t that how the saying goes? You will _learn,_ Jesse. Even if it is the last thing I will do.”


	3. McCree/Shimadas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Shimadas – dark Jesse; hypnotizing; forced shimadacest – Jesse seeks more victims for his hypnotizing device.
> 
> Prequel: B34F8  
> Sequel: B37F5

The peddler’s device is the best thing Jesse has ever bought. He can’t believe he got it for as cheap as he got it, if he is being quite honest.

He suspects that the guy had stolen it from a big company and just wanted to get rid of the thing or something – Jesse doesn’t mind, really. It’s in his hands now, and nobody knows. He can do whatever the fuck he likes, as he had tested out with Lúcio the week before.

He’d been a bit nervous about what the little slut would do the next morning – what he would remember – but Lúcio awoke from his deep sleep on Jesse’s couch just feeling very groggy and embarrassed that he had apparently not even managed a single movie before snoring away.

His mouth had been dry as all Hell too, but nothing a glass of water couldn’t fix.

It was the perfect crime, honestly.

Recreating it with the Shimadas had proven to be a bit more difficult, simply because Hanzo was such a continuous bitch that he simply refused to appear to a friendly get-together when Jesse invited them.

Luckily, Genji was a good sport about it all, even if he did not know it. He could get anything from his dear older brother these days if he pulled his visor off and blinked those big, pretty eyes at him.

Hanzo had looked like he’d bitten into a lemon when he curtly assured Jesse that he would come, and Jesse had been hard pressed to find a casual lounging position that would help him hide the raging boner he had suddenly been sporting.

Jesse’s let them both in. He’s wondered about the merits of opening the door and thrusting the little device into their faces, but Genji would come with his visor on, and he didn’t have a single clue if that would fuck with the wondrous powers of the gadget.

So instead of gaining instant gratification, Jesse had to do what he was spectacularly bad at, and wait for Genji to finally relax enough to take the stupid fucking visor of.

It gave Hanzo enough time to start bitching over just about anything he could think of, starting from Jesse’s stinking, dirty laundry on the floor and ending with the crumbs on his sofa. Hanzo is no longer the heir to a huge crime syndicate, but he still behaves like a princeling in a way that makes Jesse’s fingers itch to put him in his place.

Waiting did have its merits after all. It got him good and fired up to play with the brothers and finally just get his jitters out. Fuck them up good. Let them service him with their plump little mouths and look up at him with their pretty eyes while they were doing it.

When Genji finally takes his visor off, Jesse could honestly crow in victory, even though nothing has happened yet. He gets up from the couch with a grunt, erection down the leg of his sweats, and wagging awkwardly as he limps his way over to a dresser.

“McCree? Are you okay?” Genji asks guilelessly as if he had Lúcio sitting there once more. Hanzo is staring at him with his eyes slightly narrowed and forehead pulled into folds as he seems to ponder what is happening. Jesse can’t _wait_ for it.

“Yeah. Sure am,” he drawls and thrusts the device out on the flat of his hand. The brothers look at him confused, and then at the gadget – and anything else is history.

Jesse gently puts the thing on top of his dresser just to have it still doing its weird _thing_ while he advances on the men. Genji’s mouth is slightly hanging open, face slack, while Hanzo – Jesse couldn’t have made it up even if he wanted to – sat there with his customary bitch face.

He felt a little creeped out, honestly. Had it even worked? But when he told them in no uncertain terms to get on their knees, the both of them moved as smooth as water.

Or snakes.

Or… you know… dragons.

He gets his sweats off, his cock and balls swinging heavily between his hairy thighs.

“Hope ye’re hungry,” he grunts and shuffles his way in between them and the couch, then plops his hirsute ass down on the cushions, knees spread wide to encompass the men in front of him.

They’re as calm and docile as Lúcio had been. He has no idea what they are thinking – or if they are thinking at all – but he takes fiendish pleasure out of pulling his balls and dick out of the way and first have mister prissy fucking bitch kiss his asshole hello, then really get in there with that snide tongue of his.

God, but revenge was so goddamn sweet. Jesse thinks he could come just from having Hanzo Shimada service his hairy asshole. It’s obscene, really.

But! He didn’t go to all this trouble just to get rimmed and be done with it. He pushes Hanzo away with his palm against his forehead and lets go of his junk, heavy balls drooping down and tugging on the sensitive skin in a way that is almost painful.

He orders them to worship his dick, and they get to it with the same calm gusto as Lúcio had. It is maybe boring to order his victims yet again to suck his dick, but he is still not sure with how much he can get away with before people will start to get suspicious.

For now Jesse just wants to have some harmless fun. He wants Genji to try and suck one of his nuts into his mouth, and he wants Hanzo to drool on his dick like a seasoned old whore.

They are stupidly good at it all. Genji doesn’t surprise him, but Hanzo’s finesse makes Jesse grin stupidly. Someone’s a big ol’ slut and tries to pretend like he isn’t.

“Hey, come on boys… how ‘bout some kissing?”

His heart feels like it will beat out of his chest as he watches the brothers first lift their blank gazes to him, then simultaneously begin to turn to one another. The veins along Jesse’s cock seem to swell even more as he watches them tilt towards the ruddy dick between them.

They start to kiss the tip first, and each other second. Jesse feels like he’s going to have a stroke from it all. There’s a niggling feeling of almost feeling… _ashamed_ at not only having them at his mercy but also using them to fulfill his heated incest fantasies, but… damn they look good like this.

There’s even cute little smacking sounds as their wet lips drag against each other and Jesse’s drooling tip.

Fuck.

“Alright, babes… open up for yer treat,” he grunts, hand around his dick. Their cheeks are pressed against each other, mouths open, tongues out as they await the thick stripes of cum.

Oh yeah. Oh yeah, that’ll do it nicely. He’d tell them to share the treat between each other. Maybe have Genji fingerfuck Hanzo’s throat until he gagged.

Holy shit. Could he… make them fuck? And frame it like they’d done it in a drunk stupor? Shit, he had to _think_ about that one.


	4. Endeavor/Hawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Hawks – no Quirks; teacher/student AU; spanking – Hawks (Keigo) is a delinquent and Enji is horrible and needs only the slightest nudge to fuck his student.

Enji pauses just before his office door and takes a deep breath. Slowly in, then out. He had to calm himself before he stepped in. He’d let Keigo stew in there for a good ten minutes. Waiting outside, Enji hadn’t been able to hear the faintest rustling of clothes, but that didn’t have to mean anything.

Keigo was a disturbingly gifted young man. And a troubling one to boot. Those were always the thorns in Enji’s side. The ones that could be so much _more_ , but insisted on being called stupid little nicknames such as _Hawks_ , and played up being the most daring delinquents in school.

Enji grabs the doorknob more forceful than is strictly necessary and rips the door open. Keigo is turning his head to him with a lazy smile, wholly unperturbed by his teacher’s sudden entrance. He’s sitting where Enji has left him, but he does a cursory look around his office anyway.

Keigo must have followed orders for once and stayed right where Enji had put him. He inhales deeply, still feeling hot anger bubbling in his chest from Keigo’s disrespectful comment earlier in class.

_Excuse me, Mr. Todoroki? I just wanted to tell you that you got a phenomenal pair of tits, sir._

“So? What are we going to do now?” Keigo asks lazily, slumping deeper in the chair he’s in. He’s got his hands shoved deep in the pockets, slouching and pushing the slacks down despite the belt he is wearing, showing off the tops of his dark boxer shorts. Wholly unacceptable.

Enji’s hand tightens briefly around the doorknob before he pushes the door shut behind him and slowly turns the key without really thinking about it.

He registers the soft click of the lock snapping shut only when Keigo’s hypnotizing eyes flick towards it, his bushy brows slightly twitching. There’s nothing else to indicate that he is becoming unsure.

Enji pretends like everything is well. He moves closer in and puts the papers he had been intending on shoving into Keigo’s arms onto his desk. He puts his hand on it and leans menacingly over the young man. Keigo stares up at him calmly.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Enji asks softly, deep voice sounding menacing. Keigo smiles, completely undaunted, and has the gall to let his gaze drop and stare at Genji’s chest, his shirt just a tad too small, buttons straining when he is leaning down like he is now.

“I made a comment on your tits, sir,” Keigo says with a slow, infuriating grin. “It was a compliment, though. I assure you.”

Enji grinds his teeth. He can feel a flush crawling up his neck. That stupid tie is strangling him, but he does not want to give the boy the satisfaction of loosening it and showing off any kind of weakness.

“I will get you expelled,” he says softly, eyes sparking with anger.

Keigo pulls a face for the first time, looking close to pouty.

“That’s not fair, sir! I was only giving you a compliment!”

“You… are aware of the inappropriate nature of your comments, are you not?” he hisses between clenched teeth.

“I’m not the only one saying ‘em!” Keigo whines. “We’re all hot for your, Mr. Todoroki! You’re the hottest of the teachers by far!”

Enji, despite himself, feels… flattered by the comment. He does not know if his expression gives it away, or his short hesitation, but Keigo starts to grin, his eyelids lowering some.

“We don’t have to go so far as to expel me, sir… I got a better offer for you…” He has reached up, hand curled around the tie dangling in front of his face. Enji knows already what the little delinquent is going to offer, but he listens to him anyway.

.o.

Enji rams home, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as good as he has balls deep inside the tight little hole of a young man slutting it up for him.

Keigo… Hawks… Enji doesn’t know if he thinks about it the same way. He’s been hot and into it up until a moment ago, but for some reason his catty little attitude has melted away the second Enji has started to press his dick into that little hole.

His big hand comes down, slamming against Hawks’ ass while his other fist is tight in his unruly hair, keeping him bend over Enji’s big desk. The slap is loud in the room, like a pistol shot.

He can feel Hawks’ insides clenching down tight on him. He slaps him again. Spanking this unruly brat is absolutely… exhilarating.

Hawks either had been a virgin or had not been expecting Enji’s cock to be as big as it is. He is biting the sleeve of his jacket and trying, to his credit, his best to remain silent as his teacher lays into him and rearranges his insides in the most ruthless way possible.

There’s no sweet nothings, no reach-around; just Enji taking out his frustrations on his delinquent student and grunt fucking into his molten insides in sharp staccato movements. He is sure Hawks won’t be able to sit for a few days without pulling a face.

He’s sure his bony little hips will be bruised from being roughly ground into the edge of his big desk.

And he doesn’t care about any of it.

He’s angry; at Hawks for being such a fucking lewd brat, and at himself for being so laughably easy that the young man had only needed to stand and drop pants for Enji to grab him and slam him down over the desk.

The longer he thinks about what Keigo has said, the more angry he becomes. How dare he insinuate others were having these thoughts about him? How dare he discredit him like this during class?

Enji pulls back. Keigo’s hole is gaping at him; a fucked out maw that struggles to try and close up again. Looking around him, the kid is lying limp on the desk, eyes rolled up and mouth slack.

Enji keeps an eye on him as he slaps him again, this time more purposefully across both cheeks. Keigo jerks and groans, obviously still able to feel what is going on.

He would teach him to never step out of line again. He spanks him three, four more times until the little ass is glowing a rosy red and Hawks is starting to claw at the desk. He’s not screaming for help, but he also doesn’t sound entirely happy with the sudden pain that has sliced through the pleasure of him getting reamed by his teacher.

Enji squeezes one little ass cheek, then puts the tip of his cock against the hot little gape once more, pushing in on a long stroke that has Hawks arch his back, mouth open wide but only a little groan curling up into the air, like the massive intrusion has pushed all the air out of him.

Enji starts to have the creeping realization that by fucking the boy, he’s only making his future outbursts worse...


	5. Endeavor/Hawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Hawks – sugardaddy!AU; sugardaddy Endeavor; CBT – Enji buys Hawks everything for the privilege of getting hurt by him.

“Number One! You’re back!” Hawks smiles at him broad and lazy, head hanging over the back of the expensive couch Enji had bought him some time ago.

While Enji still struggles to carefully close the door while hiding his present behind his back (dexterity is not really his forté), Hawks has at least the decency to stand up and come to him for a greeting.

He stretches his wings out behind him as he goes to the balls of his feet to curl his arms around Enji’s neck, pressing a big kiss against his cheek with a childish ‘mwah!’. It makes him go hot all over. Hotter than he usually runs already.

“Did you-”

“I… brought you something,” Enji murmurs awkwardly. He’s better screaming orders and scowling menacingly. Being nice and subdued comes to him about as easily as closing a door behind his back with his thick sausage fingers.

Hawks’ bushy brows lift before his eyes narrow with a satisfied feline grin.

“Have you now?” he croons, carding fingers through the short hair at the back of Enji’s neck. “Daddy brought me some toys?”

Enji can feel himself flush beet red. He hates Hawks calling him daddy just as much as he craves it. He looks away, frowning deeply. He clears his throat and grunts gruffly in confirmation before finally pulling the present out from behind his back.

It had been… very embarrassing to purchase it, his ears having grown a bright red as he’d have to awkwardly explain to the clerk what kind of console Hawks had, as he’s been horribly overwhelmed by all the different versions of the game.

He’s suitably sure that a paparazzi took pictures of him, too.

It is… worth Hawks’ beaming face, though. He snatches the game out of Endeavor’s huge hand and presses another infantile kiss against the corner of his mouth before turning and bobbing away back to the couch. Enji is left standing there and staring at Hawks wearing one of his shirts which he ruined to put his wings through the back.

It is large enough to hang on him like a dress, but before he sits down – knowing Enji is watching him, the sly thing – he lifts the back up to show him the peachy curve of his naked bottom.

Enji inhales deeply, standing there like a neanderthal (he feels like) before finally starting to move. He begins to putter around, cleaning a bit of the mess Hawks made. He has offered him multiple times to get him a cleaning service, but Hawks has made it pretty clear that he likes having ‘daddy’ do the deeds.

He listens to the sounds of the TV, Hawks having booted the game up without thinking twice about Enji. He slowly undresses, then approaches carefully. He slowly kneels down on the ground, his boy taking a while to even notice him, but that’s okay… It… makes it better, somehow.

.o.

Hawks sees him from the corner of his eyes and looks down. Enji’s face is stony, but his flush gives him away. It has crawled up into his thick neck, and down over his fat tits. His plump, shy nipples look swollen; like the costume has been rubbing across them again the whole day.

Hawks sighs and pauses the game. He kind of wants to keep going, but Enji is… really cute like this. His massive thighs are spread, showing off the fat column of his cock, half-hard and tasty looking.

“Aw… daddy want a treat?” he croons. “Have you ordered meal for me already? I’m getting hungry…”

Enji nods jerkily. His flush is slowly spreading out over his belly as well. He really has a problem with controlling his color, but that makes him even _cuter_ in Hawks’ opinion. He was just a big dumb boy with a lot of cash and great assets, and Hawks was more than happy to have him pay for all his expenses and beg for his attention.

“Hmmm…” Hawks reaches out and spears his fingers into Enji’s short, fire red hair. It is… surprisingly soft, really. He always is a little taken aback by how silky it feels against his palm.

“I really want to keep playing… but I can do this, I suppose?”

He moves his foot between Enji’s thighs, pressing the sole against the length of Enji’s meaty dick, the heel against the tip. Enji looks pouty like he usually does, head turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at Hawks, but he very much offers himself up for the torture.

Hawks presses down, and Enji just grunts, face twisting and eyes closing. Hawks has had quite a few playmates, all with different kinks and whatnot, but he’s never had someone that loved to get hurt in such an intimate way.

He snorts and turns back towards the screen, though his eyes remain secretly on Enji. He pushes down with his heel, crushing the tip of Enji’s dick against the floor.

There are flames flickering into life and sputtering out impotently all across Enji’s wide chest. Hawks pushes again, harder, and he groans, his massive thighs shaking. His fat balls are getting awkwardly crushed as well, trapped beneath his cock.

For a moment it looks like he will reach forward to try and pull Hawk’s foot away and make him stop hurting him so _much_ , but when he looks up and sees Hawks staring at him with a cool, derisive stare, he keeps them right where they are: pressed to the floor, desperately trying to keep his Quirk in check and not singe anything.

He would have to pay for it, after all. Hawks might be a messy bitch that needed daddy to clean up after him, but he also made sure that he lived in a pristine high-end apartment… paid for by Enji, of course.

“Daddy is so nasty,” he croons, putting the controller to the side. He really wants to keep playing, but he can tell that Enji needs a bit more… affection today. Maybe work has been hard. Or maybe having to buy his boy the game has had him just _that_ flustered.

Hawks stands up and looks down on him.

“Daddy is a nasty old perv that likes to fuck boys that could be his son,” he continues in a sing-song voice. Enji clenches his eye shut tightly, shaking his head, humiliated.

“Look at me,” Hawks demands silkily. Enji opens his eyes. Hawks never gets tired of seeing them; so clear and blue and bright. Strangely innocent beneath the boiling rage they usually express.

He smiles at him slowly and curls his fingers around the hem of the big shirt he is wearing, lifting it up to show Enji his cock; sleek and perfectly groomed. A cute little cock that looks boyish compared to Enji’s fat, veiny dick.

While Enji stares, he pulls his foot back and suddenly kicks, toes digging into the hot, heavy sac.

Enji makes the most delicious sound: high pitched and wheezing. He clenches his thick thighs together, hands cupping his aching, throbbing balls. He looks like he is moments of folding in on himself like a wet paper towel.

Hawks’ grin widens, smug like a cat.

“What does daddy say?”

“Th-thank you…” he wheezes out after a moment of heavy breathing.

Hawks chuckles softly behind a hand, one still holding the shirt up to show himself off.

“You’re welcome, daddy. And… thank you for the game.”


	6. Akande/Lúcio/Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Gabriel/Akande – semigod!Lúcio; strategist!Gabriel; warrior!Akande; gore; blood; animalistic – when the Lord Strategist has to pitch into battle he goes in a blood frenzy that Lúcio enjoys very much.
> 
> Prequel: B33F1  
> Sequel: B39F3

Lúcio had been overseeing the battle from start to finish. Sitting leaned back in his throne, overlooking the carnage, he had felt nothing but unadulterated joy watching the rare treat of his Lord Strategist and Lord Warrior working together decapitating enemy hoards and stomping them to pieces.

Akande is a common occurrence, of course, but Gabriel is… especially delicious. The fight had not exactly gone as they had wanted until the Lord Strategist had felt the need to intervene, and by the time he rips the last little creature apart with his bare hands, he has devolved into a bloody rage that Lúcio enjoys immensely.

Gabriel always likes to pretend he is above everything else, but when he gets _angry_ , it is a… vision. An absolute treat.

Lúcio stands abruptly, his short skirt swishing against his thighs. Akande’s and Gabriel’s heads turn like hounds, looking towards him unerringly, as if scenting his excitement even through the blood and gore strewn over the wide field.

Lúcio is grinning broadly, and extending his arms to both sides, slowly making his way down the steps leading up to the seat he had taken to watch the spectacle. Their army dissolves before them as the two Lords start to move towards their God. He can feel their eyes like touches on his body, and he shudders in eager anticipation.

Gabriel is almost on all fours as he runs, fingers dragging against the ground, eyes burning with some kind of Hellflame. When he sweeps Lúcio up, he can feel the slick glide of his gore splattered fingers against his skin.

It’s rough and desperate, and all Lúcio ever wants, really. He doesn’t mind that Gabriel stinks of the sweat he’s worked up mowing through enemy lines, or that he is almost beyond words as he drags Lúcio down into the dirt and makes their God kneel there.

Akande is there as well, less feral but just as greedy and eager. He is rounding them like a panther, his wide chest heaving with the breath he is taking as Gabriel slots himself behind Lúcio and ruts, letting him feel his erection through the layers of fabric and armor separating them.

It’s good. It’s feral and right from the heart and just as Lúcio loves it. He digs his fingers into the dirt, just to feel the wet soil against his fingertips. He can’t remember the last time he lowered himself to the ground like this, and it is _exciting_.

He lifts his ass into Gabriel’s hips, listening to the clinking of the armor and the understated little growl that is continuously vibrating through the Lord Strategist’s chest. 

Akande’s circles are drawing tighter around them. He is radiating impatience as he watches, but something holds him back from grabbing Lúcio or just pushing Gabriel away. Maybe he feels that Gabriel is especially agitated right now. Maybe he feels that Gabriel is so deep in his bloodlust he would not hesitate to try and maul Akande if he were to interfere right now.

They both know how much Lúcio detests fighting amongst his favorite men.

Gabriel is usually rather charming with his silver tongue, but this time he only grunts softly as he fights to push his armor out of the way and pull his cock out. Lúcio can already imagine it; fat and swollen, veins bulging along the sides. He closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip, pushing against the pressure when his Lord Strategist begins to try and squeeze his way inside.

Akande is coming closer now. He is huge and packed with muscles but dances like a colt. The front of his heavy armor skirt is lifted by the strength of his cock. They are virile and frenzied and just for him in the middle of the carnage.

Lúcio enjoys peace and happiness, but _goodness_ this is… perfect as well. He groans when Gabriel’s crown finally pops inside.

Akande falls to his knees in front of him with a thud, trembling, blood smeared fingers grasping Lúcio’s chin and lifting his head gently.

The Lord Warrior’s eyes are dark and needy, but… soft. As the rush of fighting has made Gabriel greedy to pump out his last energy into their god, Akande has become more eager to ask for permission, it seems.

He lifts the front of his heavy armored skirt and shows Lúcio the massive cock he’s been hiding more-or-less.

Lúcio grins, lips trembling from having Gabriel force fuck his way inside of him while his arms are clamped around his hips. He is almost going cross eyed from the sensations firing through his body and ending tingling and delicious in the tips of his fingers.

His mouth drops open for Akande. Like this, the stench of blood and gore surrounding them is invading his senses intensely, his heart pumping faster. Gabriel fucks him like a bull from behind, and Akande lets him force Lúcio forward and onto his cock. He just taps the dribbling tip against the soft cushion of their god’s tongue, and waits for Lúcio to get forced forward by the insistent pushes from behind.

Gabriel ruts forward, and Lúcio’s belly goes hot when the fat breeder balls slap against him as a result. His insides feel liquid. Molten. He shuffles his knees farther apart and feels them slip-slide on the blood soaked ground. As Akande’s swollen tip pushes in and makes him practically dislocate his jaw, the first drops of rain begin to fall from above.

The drizzle is just that; light but insistent, and taking with it the stench all around them, cooling their bodies as both Lords radiate heat like furnaces.

Looking up at Akande, Lúcio can see steam lazily curling up from his shoulders as the rain hits his hot skin. It is a good look.

Lúcio tries to keep watching him as he gets nudged further and further on the thick cock. By the time Gabriel gets fed up with him slip-sliding away through the mud, and drags him roughly back, they are all drenched with rain and Lúcio’s jaw is aching in the most delicious way. He does not feel like he can close it any time soon, tongue hanging out wet and greedy, lips feeling raw from Akande’s fat cock splitting him open while Gabriel is doing the same from behind.

Gabriel pulls back until Lúcio is gaping and empty, a cry of protest half-uttered before he is being turned on his back, his two Lords ranging over him like mountains, pressing in on him on both sides, their eyes wide and a bit shell shocked looking when the realization hits that they are dragging their God through the mud.

Lúcio does not want them to have second thoughts. He wants Gabriel’s rough thrusts without any finesse, and he wants Akande’s cock splitting his jaw open while his balls drag over his face.

He squirms, grabbing for both their cocks, and demanding with a broken voice just that.

“Fuck me.”

And, like the good subjects that they are, they obey; in the middle of the battlefield.


	7. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – rape aftermath; rape play(?) – Jesse asks something of Hanzo, and Hanzo agrees too easily.
> 
> Prequel: B33F12  
> Sequel: B36F10

While Hanzo is trying his utmost to be ‘there’ for Jesse, he neither knows exactly what ‘being there’ entails, nor is he necessarily the most… well equipped person for the endeavor, as he himself knows quite well.

After his confirmation that yes, he… enjoyed the sight of what happened to Jesse, things seemed to become a little less tense and a bit more hopeful, but that didn’t last forever. Jesse is quiet and brooding most of the time.

Where _before_ he would have been the first to join in activities that Miss Song or Miss Lindholm were suggesting, he now either spent the time in the background or not there at all.

It is something minuscule, of course, but strangely enough doesn’t let go of Hanzo.

He obsesses over how to breach the subject of how to exactly _help_ Jesse, and in the end simply asks. He’s shocked for a second that the approach actually works before what McCree has mumbled into his shoulder really sinks in.

It is late at night, and their bed smells comfortingly of each other. Hanzo wants to pretend like it is this familiarity that makes his first gut reaction be an exuberant _yes_ , but he knows that that simply wouldn’t be right.

The truth is that Jesse asks him to brutalize him, and the thought of having this sturdy hirsute man beneath him, trembling and sobbing has his cock fattening in moments.

So of course he says yes, and of course he feels like a hero when he can feel Jesse relaxing and whisper instructions at him in a feverish way that lets Hanzo know his lover has been thinkin about this for a long time now. Thinking about his own rape by the hands of his beloved.

He doesn’t want to know about the exact time that it’ll happen.

He doesn’t want Hanzo to pull any punches.

He doesn’t want Hanzo to stop, no matter how much he might beg him to.

Hanzo agrees to all of it with an ease that is humiliating but also just very, very earnest. He promises solemnly to honor Jesse’s wishes-

and attacks him the next day when McCree is probably still reeling with the fact that Hanzo would actually play along.

He turns off the security feed for the training range that McCree is occupying that afternoon. He does it all to catch him as off guard as possible; assaulting him in the middle of the day, right in a space where Jesse usually feels very safe and in control.

There is sweat dripping from the gunslinger’s nose, and large spots of it soaked into his training gear. He’s been at it for hours now, putting bullet after bullet in the targets, and Hanzo has rarely seen a more satisfying sight than Jesse exhausted and reeking.

It should be disturbing how easily it comes to him to assault his own lover, but… it isn’t. He doesn’t try to make excuses for himself. He just wants to do it. He really, really, _really_ wants to do it.

Jesse grunts when he is suddenly gripped from behind, and a little electronic device is planted on his prosthetic to render it useless within seconds. He’s a tall man with muscles, and even despite the soft gut he has acquired over the years, Hanzo is not foolish enough to not be careful as he stays behind him as much as possible and wrestles the heavy training pistol out of his hand.

Jesse is fighting, but not as much as he could be. They barely make any sounds as Hanzo starts to pull him to the ground, slamming his forehead into the floor in a way that he knows has to hurt and has Jesse disoriented.

There are specks of blood on the ground when Jesse’s nose starts to bleed, and Hanzo feels _in charge_ and _powerful_ when he doesn’t give a fuck and just roughly snarls at him to stop struggling if he doesn’t want him to break the already crooked bone completely.

Normally, Jesse wouldn’t stop fighting, of course, but now he becomes docile, letting Hanzo jerk his arms up behind his back until he whines through his teeth with the strain it puts on his shoulders.

He is panting heavily, the motion of his wide chest having his whole body move with it up and down like a ship on water. He is completely exhausted after his training session. Hanzo grins feral; it’s all teeth and very little joy.

He’s hard, but it has nothing to do with any sensual joy. This is pure, brutal lust of wrestling Jesse down and hearing the panicked hitch of his breath when he rips his sweatpants down and exposes him to the oppressive, warm air of the room.

“No…” McCree whispers, his sirupy voice thin and reedy on just that one syllable. Hanzo grabs his hairy cheeks with both hands and spreads them wide. He hasn’t made acquaintance with McCree’s hole in quite a while. It looks puffy and very fuckable. As if he had been playing with it since coming back from the ordeal.

“No, please!” he croaks, trying to twist and look around. Hanzo can catch a glimpse of his face; mustache matted with the blood sluggishly running from his nose, eyes huge and a bit glassy with panic. He looks genuinely afraid – and the sight only makes Hanzo hotter for it.

He growls, grabbing Jesse by the hair and slamming his forehead once more against the floor. While the gunslinger is still dazed from the harsh impact, Hanzo pulls his cock out and presses the dry tip against Jesse’s opening.

McCree cries out again, weak and uncoordinated. He tries to pull his arms out from behind the tight restraint behind his back. Hanzo can hear something pop, but nothing else happens as he struggles to stay mounted and force his cock into Jesse.

He’s never raped someone. He doesn’t think he’d ever feel the desire to… other than… with Jesse. Having this man beneath him, crying, trying to call for help when his body disobeys and makes him struggle to even _breathe_ …

The sensation is dangerously powerful.

When his tip finally pops in and Jesse makes a sound like a big, heaving sob, he pauses and wonders what the fuck he is even doing. What was the purpose of this? Was there even a chance that it would help Jesse? Should he have refused him and try to save him from himself?

But he’s slept so well after Hanzo consented to assaulting him. He’s been calm and almost… peaceful for the first time since coming back.

Hanzo did only what Jesse had asked of him. Nothing more, and nothing less. That the feeling of his desperately clenching body trying to force him out, and the sound of his heaving sobs only made him harder and more desperate to fuck him up was…

It was just a byproduct.


	8. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – rape tw; somnophilia; drug use; loss of virginity – Bruce has a virgin hole and Jason is obsessed with it.
> 
> Sequel: B36F7

That Jason had the right to the privilege of fucking B’s virgin snatch was something indisputable to him. He’s not sure Bruce sees it the same way – or even has an inkling about anything going on in Jason’s mind – but that doesn’t deter him.

The big man’s security is so laughably easy to overcome that it only stokes the fire in Jason’s belly. It makes him think _He wants this. He is inviting me. He wants me to come and finally spread his pussy on cock like he’s been begging for for years._

B sleeps in the nude. Of course. Jason pauses at the balcony door and inhales the thick musk of sleeping man that permeates the master bedroom, eyes roaming over B’s broad, muscular back. The thin silk sheets are draped just over one side of his ass, the rest tangled around his legs.

He’s a born slut. The thought that Bruce likes to pretend he’s some kind of… playboy or womanizer puts a derisive sneer on Jason’s face. He’s seen the women Bruce liked to take home with him.

He’s sat outside the door, ear pressed to the wood, listening in to them fawning and sighing as he dicked them.

He wonders to this day if Bruce thought they had been earnest. In Jason’s eyes, they’ve always just wanted to get to his money and fame. He’s seen Bruce fuck a few of them; peeking through the keyhole while steaming in jealousy.

His dick game is… bad. Real bad. It doesn’t matter, though, obviously. He doesn’t need to do more than spread his legs in Jason’s opinion. Just finally accept that all he’s good for is to open his thighs and let someone much more qualified take over.

Jason… now Jason is qualified. More than that. Most of his past encounters have told him he’s a service top, and while he’s had to search the term up, he does think it sums the situation up quite nicely.

The thought of anybody, especially ladies, not being serviced the orgasms that they deserve so badly, rankles to him.

He wouldn’t be surprised to realize that Bruce hasn’t managed even once to pleasure one of his conquests to their satisfaction.

It doesn’t matter now. Water under the bridge. Jason has spent years fantasizing about fucking B’s virgin ass, and tonight is the night that it’ll finally happen. Things had been… frustrating the past few weeks, to say the least. He thinks he has earned this privilege once and for all.

That Bruce might not even be an anal virgin, doesn’t cross his mind. It seems like a nonsense possibility. Bruce taking it up the tailpipe is a concept that he’s sure must be completely alien to the guy.

He has no idea how deliciously submissive he looks, with one leg bent upwards, giving the merest glimpse of the dark space between his muscular cheeks.

Jason rounds the bed, eyeing him from all sights, trying to catch a peek at the sensitive little hole.

Bruce sleeping nude is just one more of those things that egg Jason on.

The great detective is sleeping like a log, snoring and mouth open. He has no idea that Jason is inside his home, inside his bedroom, watching him intently from all angles and trying to figure out the best course of action to finally squeeze his cock into his silky virgin snatch.

Impatience moves his hand, but it is just as well as anything else he could have come up with. He has a little bottle with chemicals that help Bruce sink deeper into sleep when he presses a cloth with them to his nose and mouth and just lets him inhale it for a bit.

He tests how deep he is under by giving his muscular thigh a few smacks, and when nothing happens other than him continuing to snore, Jason starts to undress with an urgency that borders on hectic.

Jason pauses then, cock in hand, giving himself slow strokes as he just tries to calm down so he wouldn’t shoot his load even before getting to his prize.

Fully fucking in would probably be impossible, even though Bruce was pretty drugged up, but… well. He is sure that just the tip would work… right? He could finally get a taste of the tight, silky heat, shoot his load, and be done with it.

Bruce wouldn’t be any the wiser – other than the fact that he’d be dripping cum from his ass in a few hours.

Fuck, the thought was good.

Jason crawls onto the bed and rudely pushes Bruce’s legs apart. It looks lewd. B’s tight ass spreads all on its own, finally showing off the peach pink hole he’d been hiding away. Jason has to sit there and just stare for a good few minutes. The realization that Bruce is obviously shaving his ass is hitting him deep.

Did he do it for any particular purpose? Did he touch his little cunt when he was back there? Let fingers drag over and around it, playing with the thought of stuffing himself but always chickening out at the last moment?

Jason’s heart is pumping fast and hard in his chest. His fingers shake as he grabs the little tube of lube and squeezes it over his erection, spreading the liquid until his rod is glistening wet and ready to rape the unsuspecting little virgin.

He didn’t want to make it _hurt_ , of course, but he also knew that what he was about to do was… rape. Just that simple.

It didn’t matter. Compared to what Bruce has done to him, it is nothing.

He shuffles closer, hand around his wet dick, guiding the bulbous tip towards B’s hole. It’s loose looking; as if it were as slack as his lips as he continued to snore, deep in sleep.

When he pushes his way in, the snore’s hitch and stop for but a second before they resume, almost louder than before.

Bruce’s body is… impossibly hot inside. Maybe that explains why he’s kicked his blanket off almost completely. Jason’s heart is pounding so fast that he gets light headed, but he can’t stop now.

He needs to see this through to the end. Just the tip. Just. The. Tip.

His mouth hangs open as he watches his cock slowly but surely spread the virgin cunt wide. It goes without resistance; the muscle stretching obediently to allow Jason entrance. It is sad, in a way, that Bruce isn’t awake to witness it. Jason would… enjoy hearing him whine and whimper. Maybe beg him to go slower.

That deep, rough voice telling him that he is ‘too big’ and he’ll rip that tiny virgin pussy…

Jason gasps when he feels Bruce’s cheeks against his hip bones. His head has tilted back without him noticing. Now his chin hits his chest to stare down, shocked that he’s inside him to the hilt when just a few seconds before Jason had been adamant to only give him the tip.

B has stopped snoring. Jason’s gaze travels up. His eyes are still closed, but his brows have moved into a tiny frown, his lips looking red and plump. He’s breathing deeply with the occasional hitch.

Oh… Oh wow.

Yes.


	9. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – docking; micro dick; blowjob – Gabriel keeps on playing with Jack’s micro cock.
> 
> Prequel: B34F3  
> Sequel: B36F6

Jack looks like he is slowly getting used to spending his life on his back and with his legs in the air. Old dogs still could learn new tricks, it seems… Gabriel’s grin stretches shark like, his eyes roaming the tightly muscled body, until they drop to the ridiculous little dick Jack is sporting nowadays.

It looks like it is erect, but Gabriel can’t be too sure, so he reaches for it and pinches it between two blunt fingertips. Jack jerks. He’s thrown an arm over his face, but Gabriel can see how his mouth twists down, lips pulled back to show his teeth.

“Fuckin’ watch it, asshole,” Jack grunts. He reaches down with his free hand, grabbing tight onto Gabriel’s forearm, but does not pull him away from meanly squeezing the shrivelled up remains of Jack’s once gorgeously fat cock.

“Then don’t show off like a two dollar whore,” Gabriel croons back silkily. He lets go of Jack’s cock and instead brushes a finger beneath his peanut balls as if rubbing a kitten beneath its chin. “You ready to fuck around with this baby dick you got?”

Jack is flushing horribly; starting across his wide chest from where it crawls up his thick neck and down his belly. He’s always been easy to embarrass, and Gabriel has always enjoyed humiliating him. There is something weirdly satisfying about having Jack’s baby blues water up and his lips tremble as if he is going to bawl any second now.

“Fuck you,” Jack grunts, and then adds immediately a breathy: “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Gabriel inhales deeply. He reaches up and grabs Jack’s arm to pull it away from his face and down, making him curl his hand around the big silky erection Gabriel is sporting for him. “There… You wanna play with this toy, Jackie?”

Jack’s pupils blow wide, his mouth dropping open into a soft ‘o’. He likes to play the hardass soldier for most of the time – especially the young ones on the team – but when he’s on his back waiting for Gabriel to fuck him up, he looks just puppy eager and happy to go along with anything. Even if it embarrasses the shit out of him.

“Yeah… Yeah, fuck. I really do.” Gabriel doesn’t need to force him to touch his cock. His big hand squeezes down gently all on its own, giving him a few very distracting pumps. Jack’s calluses tug at the silky skin, giving him little sparks of discomfort and pain that only fuel into the magma heat filling his belly.

Right now Jack could do pretty much anything to him and he would just nut, Gabriel is pretty sure.

He inhales deeply, head sinking back, letting Jackie play with his big cock for a few more moments before he pulls his hips back and his dick out of range.

“Enough,” he purrs with a rough voice. “I got more planned for today.”

He reaches over to the side, grabbing the lube he’s deposited there earlier. Jack grunts when it is slathered over his raisin dick, but he does not protest the treatment. Anything these days has him on a hair trigger, it seems. Being locked away for decades has made his little cock only more sensitive to sensations. Gabriel kind of wants to… hurt it. He’s never been someone with sadistic urges in bed, but something about Jack’s tiny, shrivelled up dick and balls made him want to squeeze them until he howled.

“Alright then… come on, Jackie, you need to look. It’s only half as funny if you don’t see it.”

Jack takes a deep breath, then obediently lifts his head. It’s too uncomfortable for long, though, so he stuffs a pillow behind his shoulders so he can see.

Gabriel feels a weird wave of affection swamping him at the sight. He smiles with a little twitch to the corner of his mouth and shuffles closer, his own cock glistening with slick, and moves the silky skin so Jack can see how it bunches generously over the tip.

“Ready?” Gabriel murmurs, but moves before Jack can say anything. He’d known, intellectually, that it would be laughably easy to swallow Jack’s micro junk up in his foreskin, but to actually see it is pretty shocking.

He can feel Jack’s small erection kissing up to his fat tip, and, even more weirdly, can feel his small testicles as well, held nice and snug in the warm, pre-cum-wet embrace of Gabriel’s foreskin.

They’ve docked before; when they’ve still been young and both had big ruddy cocks to play with. This now was… it was perverse to see and feel, but hit a string in Gabriel that just vibrated stronger the longer he gently kept his hand curled around the tip to make sure the soft skin was nice and snug around Jack’s micro dick.

Jack is staring down between the heaving mounds of his pecs, his eyes wide. There are splotches of color on his cheeks where his body can’t decide whether to flush red hot or pale in shock of the sight.

Gabriel doesn’t move his hips, but he does manipulate the whole thing with his fingers, lightly massaging and somewhat jerking Jack off with his foreskin. It is surreal, but he knows he’ll be thinking about this for years to come; jerking off frantically with the memory of how it feels to have Jack’s raisin cock and micro balls snuggled up against his crown.

There’s the sound of their breathing filling the space, as well as the wet little squelching noises as Gabriel moves the foreskin about, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping out of the seal whenever it is broken. Within minutes, Jack’s crotch is shiny wet with it.

Gabriel can take it for a minute or two more before he pulls back with a growled ‘fuck it’. As Jack grunts his protest when his dicklet is suddenly out in the cold open, Gabriel swoops down, mouth open and greedy to just pop the whole thing into his mouth, balls and all.

He sucks with a lewd slurp, hips humping his big breeder cock against the bed. Jack cries out roughly, hands scrabbling to grab at Gabriel’s head, body convulsing as he tries to fuck his mouth with that ridiculous little package of his.

The knowledge that Jack could look any way he’d like, and Gabriel would still be impossibly hot for him, hits him out of left field. It makes him stop, Jack’s junk slipping from his wet, greedy mouth, as he looks up his flushed, heaving body to stare at his face.

They’re old now and well past their prime, but he knows that he’d be all over Jack trying to eat him whole, even if he still had the big cock that he had when they were young and constantly horny.

“The fuck you’re doing?” Jack whines, lifting his head that had fallen back when his junk had been engulfed in Gabriel’s wet hot mouth.

Gabriel wipes the smitten look off his face and snaps his teeth centimeters from Jack’s little erection.

“Watch it, boyscout.”


	10. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – blackmailing – Hanzo hadn’t been as unobserved as he had thought.
> 
> Prequel: B33F13  
> Sequel: B36F8

_I’ve seen you._

Hanzo stares at the crudely scrawled words on the paper that has gotten shoved underneath his door. There is no signature beneath. He reads the message a few more times, thumb thoughtfully dragging over them. He doesn’t think any of the young ones has written it.

It looks like the penmanship of a gorilla, but he doubts the resident scientist would have any vague threats like this one in him. He puts the paper on his desk and doesn’t worry about it any more. There is no sense in fretting over something as insignificant as a child’s writing; especially since he has no idea what they are alluding to.

He forgets about it until a day later, when another little slip is waiting for him as he comes out of the bathroom. He picks it up and reads the next short message.

_Behind the shed. Dragons._

Now that… is a lot less vague. Hanzo knows immediately what this person is talking about. The night is now a couple months in the past, but it has also been the last time he has led himself be serviced by his spirits. One did not simply forget these encounters.

His heart thumps faster against his ribcage, but his hand is completely still as he carefully puts this new slip of paper on top of the other one. There are not many people on base. Overwatch is small and tucked away into one of their old hideouts.

He still did not suspect Miss Song or Mister Lúcio. Neither did the gorilla seem likely; not after he’s witnessed him just yesterday devolving almost in embarrassed tears at Miss Tracer complimenting him.

Hanzo pauses, then snatches the papers up again and puts them beneath his nose. He inhales, eyes closing as he focuses – and there they are. The faintest hints of smoke.

The cowboy.

He stands there for a moment longer, inhaling the barely there scent, then very slowly puts the slips of paper back down. He has no idea what McCree wants, but he finds himself intrigued despite himself.

Hidari and Migigawa had been focused on him that night, of course, but their powers should have been easily enough to notice any bystander watching their union behind that shed. The thought that McCree somehow managed to be there and be undetected was as unnerving as it was… interesting.

The dragons slowly roil beneath his skin. They have vastly different opinions, of course, and feel slighted that a mere mortal has managed to go under their radar and get the drop on them. Hanzo absentmindedly brushes a hand over his tattoo and turns to grab his bow. There was nothing to be done about it right now anyway. He would wait and see what the cowboy wanted to do with this… eclectic information.

He could force him to remain silent if what transpired was not after Hanzo’s tastes.

.o.

The next message is definitely more elaborate.

_You put on a nice show. Was damn impressed. I’d like to see it again. Take a video of you sucking one of them beasts off and put the drive on the red box in hangar 2 by midnight tonight._

Hanzo’s brows lift as he reads the message. He had expected money, but this is… a lot more interesting. He had been watching McCree all day yesterday, but the cowboy had been as genial and lazy as all the days before that. There had been no lingering stares, no weird comments…

The thought that maybe Hanzo is mistaken after all makes him a little nervous. What if it isn’t McCree but the old soldier? He wouldn’t put it past him. He seems like a hardass and then some, playing his cards close to his chest. To be a perverse freak would kind of fit him.

Yet… the way he wrote… it fit McCree.

Hanzo sits down on his bed, studying the few lines for a good few minutes. Shimada Hanzo, heir to a yakuza empire, is not someone to be _blackmailed_ at the drop of a hat, yet he has to admit that he is… curious.

He is also lonely. He misses the attention of his dragons.

Still, he will not jump like a nervous adolescent to the demands of an unwashed cowboy – so he puts the paper to the other two and doesn’t do a thing to adhere to what McCree wants of him. If it is McCree. This matter troubles him somewhat, though he wouldn’t be able to put his finger on why exactly one blackmailer would be more… desirable than the other.

When the next day he exits the shower and sees yet another slip of paper shoved beneath his door, Hanzo’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk. The dragons roil beneath his skin, but he does not pay them any mind. They still feel slighted that they had not noticed a mere human sneaking up on them.

Hanzo snatches the paper from the ground and peruses its scrawling scribbles that become progressively more difficult to read.

_Alright. Forgot to put in an ‘or else’, did I? How bout that: I got some nice videos and pics of the whole thing. Wouldn’t want your brother to see them, do you?_

Hanzo’s smirk curdles at the last question, eyes narrowing. This whole thing had been very amusing, but the notion of Genji being pulled into it leaves a bitter aftertaste that he does not necessarily care for.

He is still staring at it when his pager pings. On it, a message from an encrypted sender reads: look at this.

It is immediately followed by a picture. Hanzo can feel a pleasurable shudder down his spine when he sees himself in the midst of the translucent, glowing beasts. Their ethereal nature means he is clearly visible between their bodies as he takes their cocks behind the dilapidated little sheep shed.

The picture is a surprisingly good shot. Hanzo has no idea what kind of camera McCree (?) used, or whether he’d managed to just get _that close_ to them, but he has to admit that it is a thing of beauty.

He is not above admitting that he is very photogenic.

He’s still admiring the shot when another message comes in.

_Will you comply?_

Hanzo thoughtfully tugs at his goatee, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. Whoever the blackmailer is, they seem hesitant. The way they phrase the questions seem hilariously hopeful; like if Hanzo were to deny them, they would just apologize and stop this whole little game.

But Hanzo did not want to stop.

He also did not want to seem too eager.

_We will see,_ he replies simply, then lays back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.


	11. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – gaping; knot fucking; somnophilia; softé – Jack fancies himself a romantic :’)
> 
> Prequel: B34F7  
> Sequel: B36F9

Whether Gabriel is really, truly sleeping, or whether he is playing his unconsciousness up for Jack’s benefit, Jack’ll never know. He doesn’t much care to know, either. He loves it when he can play with his Omega and not feel watched.

It’s not like Gabriel ever judges him, really, but there is something supremely freeing in being able to play with someone gorgeous like Gabriel without any eyes on him. Where he can use Gabriel like it is something illicit and maybe even illegal but he’s doing it anyway.

He supposes it plays into some weird feral Alpha behavior he still exhibits after all these years, but he’s honestly too tired at this point to try and figure out whether it is dangerous or not. Gabriel would put him in his place if he thought Jack was being out of line.

Sometimes, Jack wanders into the bathroom at night, sleepy brain empty, and comes back out with an erection like a steel rod swinging between his thighs and dribbling a trail toward the bed.

Gabriel doesn’t have a preferred sleeping position, which is just as well for Jack. He loves his Omega any which way anyway.

As he crawls onto the bed, Gabriel with his back to him, he does not even need to nudge the sleeping man to get a reaction out of him. The scent of his arousal had already curled through the air and is now making Gabriel move all on his own, thick thighs sliding apart until his fat ass starts to spread the slightest bit to give a glimpse at his hole.

Jack had fucked him just earlier before they went to bed. The mess he left behind is still there, glistening wet and inviting at the very tops of Gabriel’s thighs. When he pushes one fat cheek to the side, he can see how he is still loose and gaping; ready to be mounted at any time Jack damn well pleased.

It was here that Jack always paused, unsure whether Gabriel was actually asleep or not, but… it didn’t matter, did it? If Gabriel mentioned it the next morning, it was just with a grunt and a reach between his cheeks, confusion on his sleepy face before he just let it slide with an air of a master that has resigned on teaching his old bastard of a dog to stop chewing on his shoes.

Jack crawls a bit closer, slotting himself in against Gabriel’s back. He thinks of how he’s fucked the old Omega on his knot earlier; how breathtaking it had felt. He can’t help but reach down and test the hole once more. His breath hitches when he feels how blood hot the rim still is; the muscle velvety soft and slack as Jack carefully rounds it with his fingertips and lightly hooks inside to tug against it.

He gets a warm ooze of slick and old cum for his trouble as the last bit still inside Gabriel’s guts is dislodged and slowly swamps his fingers. Jack’s ears are burning hot with embarrassment, but by God this is sexy.

Gabriel shifts a little but, but doesn’t make a sound. His body radiates sleepy warmth. Jack tucks his nose in against the back of his mate’s neck, eyes closing and inhaling his delicious sleep scent for a few soft, calm moments before he has to reach down and smear the slick-and-cum mess over his erection.

Slipping into Gabriel is so easy it is criminal. Honestly, it feels like it would have been more difficult _not_ to slide into place. His insides are hot and molten and so loose that Jack feels like he’s dipped his cock into a jar of warm honey.

Lying on his side, he can only softly rock in and out of Gabriel. It still produces the same slick squelching sounds that any other position would have elicited. Jack closes his eyes, forehead pressing against the back of Gabriel’s neck.

He listens to the quiet sounds outside their room, and the nasty squelch of his cock repeatedly displacing slick inside the loosely gaping hole presented to him.

It is… surprisingly romantic.

Gabriel would probably hit him if he ever voiced it. The Omega had a by far more sophisticated notion of romance, but for Jack it was simply this: holding his sleeping mate, gently fucking his ruined, stretched hole and feeling all drowsy in the process of it.

When his knot swells, he can just easily pop it into Gabriel without needing to worry about him waking up.

It is absolutely luxurious.

In the end, Jack doesn’t even know if he came or not. One moment he gently teases the fat swell of his knot along the stretched rim over and over again, the next he is woken by sunlight shining directly into his face.

He is still plastered to Gabriel’s back, cock miraculously inside him, and the Omega warm and sleeping in his arms.

He should probably pull back before Gabriel woke up with a cock in his guts, but… he kind of doesn’t want to. Gabriel would probably give him Hell for it later, but for now Jack stays and sighs and tries to muster up the inspiration to fuck his gorgeous mate yet again.

Retirement is bliss.


	12. Magneto/Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magneto/Beast – Days Of Future Past – fuck-or-die; animalistic; dubcon/noncon – Things happen fast and Beast doesn’t realize it’s spreading.

They had rushed Magneto in as soon as the first symptoms started showing, but they had been unable to tell Beast exactly what had happened. Their eyes wide, staring at the man writhing on the cot, they had reported that they’d just been out and about in the city when he suddenly collapsed.

Soon thereafter he had started sweating bullets, writhing, clawing at his clothes to try and get them off, anything metal in the vicinity vibrating to a degree that had scared them enough to bundle him up and get him back to the mansion, consequences of moving him be damned.

There was no sign of him losing a handle on his abilities now, but Beast suspected that was in large part due to the fact that he was too weak to try and summon them. Eric radiated heat in waves strong enough to be felt almost a foot away. What befell him had to be due to another mutant, but it was impossible to tell what exactly might have happened.

Whether it had been intentional or unintentional.

Beast sends the kids out of his lab. He can’t use them flitting about and worrying over their mentor when he had tests to conduct and make sure that Eric didn’t overheat.

He wants to properly get him out of his sweat soaked clothes, but as usual Eric has opted to wear one of his skin tight turtlenecks, so he grabs scissors and awkwardly cuts him out of his clothes. His fingers were just a tad too big to properly use the equipment, but he made short work of it anyway.

Heat floods him when he gets to pull Eric’s pants down and notices the fat erection springing out of his underwear and slapping against his heaving belly with a wet smack. If Eric notices anything that is going on, he does not show it. His eyes are clenched tightly shut, and he had been unresponsive to any and all inquiries. Sweat is still streaming down his face.

When Beast listens to his heartbeat it sounds… worrisome, to say the least. It’s fast and hard and seems ready to just burst from whatever mutation has hit him when chaperoning the kids in the city.

Beast hums thoughtfully and leans back a little, staring at Eric still writhing on the cot. His long legs are shuffling restlessly, heels digging into the surface he’s on, and hips tilting up to helplessly fuck the air. His cock is a dark shade of red, looking overstuffed and painful.

From experience, the effect wouldn’t hold indefinitely. Every power had their limits; it just meant that they had to whether this storm out until whatever had taken grip of Eric let him sink into a more peaceful sleep.

Beast bites his lips. He usually is not like… that… but…

His eyes slide towards the door of his lab, then back to Eric who cries out hoarse and pained, his hips jerkily thrusting upward one more time, flanks quivering in exhaustion.

Well.

Beast’s feelings toward Magneto had always been a mixed bag and all over the place. In some way he had to thank him for egging him on enough to shed pretenses and just enjoy his life with his fur, feet no longer constantly aching from being stuck in shoes far too small.

On the other hand… Mystique.

Beast locks the door, and takes off the little clothes he has opted to wear today for modesty’s sake. By the time he is at the cot, his cock is already starting to swell, tapered and naked against all the thick blue fur.

The heat Eric is exuding has him sweating himself; something he is not unfamiliar with nowadays. The interior simply wasn’t made for a man as hairy as he, but it was nothing he couldn’t withstand for the sake of companionship of other mutants.

This, though… Eric felt like a furnace. Beast grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, watching as Magneto’s mouth fell open easily, showing off red hot insides and a slick, pink tongue. He’s a casanova and playboy, but right now he looks more like a perfect little fuck toy.

These are not thoughts Beast usually harbors. He fancies himself to be a… gentle giant, but… Eric has always had a habit of crawling right underneath his skin and dragging out the ugliest of himself.

It doesn’t occur to him that having touched the older mutant might have caused whatever ravaged his body to jump over to him. His thoughts become more muddled by the second, his canine like cock throbbing and _aching_ with the need to plunge it into something nice and wet, and Eric’s mouth is just… it’s just _there_.

Beast plunges into him like he would into a fleshlight. Eric’s eyes are suddenly open and staring up at him, but his gaze looks glassy, and Beast… doesn’t… care. He just doesn’t. He growls like an animal right from his chest, the fur along his spine standing on end as he leans forward and snaps his hips, cock pushing without resistance right into Eric’s throat, causing him to gag and convulse beneath his assailant.

The heat radiating off of him is inhuman. It drives Beast insane. His cock is flexing, furry balls lying heavily against Eric’s chin. Behind him he can dully hear someone knocking at the door, but it seems far away when he got a nice warm hole to fuck into.

Medical utensils all around him start to vibrate and clatter against the floor. If Eric is doing it with intent, he doesn’t have the wherewithal to actually make them into weapons. Beast doesn’t think that he is doing anything with any higher brain function right now, though.

Hands suddenly grip his thighs, but instead of pulling him away, the fingers only curl tightly into his fur and hold on for the ride as Beast bends over Eric’s head and drills his mouth with a fervor that he doesn’t think he’s ever shown.

He feels unhinged, the heat sweltering beneath his fur driving him insane as he grunt fucks right into the mutant’s throat and only pulls back when the sounds Eric makes indicate that he seriously is about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

As Beast pulls back, he stares down in Eric’s handsome face. His eyes are almost completely rolled up into his head, tears and drool smeared over his face. He doesn’t look as dignified or dashing when he’s gotten his throat fucked like he’s nothing more than a brainless bimbo.

He certainly looks like one right now.

It’s disturbingly easy to just give in to the frenzy and hook Eric’s legs over his shoulders. His cock is tapered and slippery and makes it easy to brute force his way into the sweltering heat of the other mutant’s body.

He fucks the hole like there’s no tomorrow, the banging on the door behind them getting more desperate, but all the locks holding fast as he gives it to the bitch like a bull, pushing him over the small cot until its head is hanging over the edge of it.

At one point, the heavy cock jerking against its belly has darkened from red to purple and flexes impossibly hard as it suddenly starts to come from the harsh treatment.

Beast just keeps at it. The heat beneath his fur is still raging, and he is not in the least done finally putting all that strength to good use.


End file.
